


Dusty Windows

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas AU, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Happy Ending, It's not so bad okay?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where It's Christmas Eve and Harry misses home even when he's sitting in it and Louis isn't with him (anymore).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dusty Windows

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Copyrights, alright?  
> Please don't use any part of this work anywhere else. I've put my sweat and time into it, though it's not the best.  
> All mistakes are my own, forgive me.  
> Everything in this work, belongs to me. Do not reproduce anywhere else.  
> Thanks.  
> Oh, and. Merry Christmas in advance! x

** Dusty Windows **

The wisps of smoke stopped coming out of his mug a long time ago. Harry couldn't be bothered about it, though. He had things other his cold tea to worry about and it wasn't about how wasn't in the festive mood like he usually would be.

  He should be back by now, he thinks to himself when he glances at the clock. But, shakes himself out of the reverie when he accidentally kicks the center table too hard and the mug comes crashing to the floor. It lands softly on the thick rug under his feet, but he thinks it would have been better if it did. He'd at least have company on account of how broken he's feeling.

  He ignores the throbbing of his socked toes and wriggles them around. No use of crying over spilt milk. Or in this case, tea. But, then, he generally adds milk in his tea, so.

  Louis is not going to come back. He repeats it like a twisted mantra, a tape he's played like a favoured playlist since he gave up three months ago after he's pulled his hair out by the roots after two weeks of sleepless searching. Dead or alive, he couldn't tell. Niall stayed tight lipped the whole time while Liam did the shouting, some at Harry, some at Zayn and so much at the futile attempts of the police. At least, there was no news of a blue-eyed dead body.

  Zayn had a only few words of encouragement, but for a several weeks, he lived in their apartment's balcony, smoking under Louis' name. As if the ask and spoiling of lungs was a sacrifice to retrieve him. Harry was tempted too, since he couldn't stay quiet and he couldn't shout either. But he decided against it. Louis wouldn't be proud if he found out.

  After that, the other three boys took turns sleeping over at Harry's (and Louis') flat and making sure he eats and sleeps well. It was dingy and had only two bedrooms, but it was theirs. Every spot was cleaned with a memory whenever he'd go down the memory lane and he doesn't mean just christening the place, even though that happened countless times. Liam turns into a temporary father figure which makes the entire situation worse than it already is. He heard a muffled argument in one of the rooms, one that he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop on, between Niall and Liam and the latter saying that 'he might do something to harm himself, we better keep an eye on him'.

  Pathetic, that's how he felt for a month after that. His friends were wonderful, really. But, this whole concept of babying had to wear off at some point, you can't take care of someone forever. That is, if Louis comes back before forever gets over.

  The thing is, Louis is one of those people who you fall in love with even when you don't want to. Harry remembers biting his lip nervously when Louis used to walk past him in the hallways. The typical high school crush that stayed beautifully vintage in his mind, a movie he could play whenever that would leave him empty and smiling at the same time.

  He remembers being gone for him, having no more hope of a chance with him after Louis' graduation. He was still crestfallen about the whole ordeal in the first week of university two years later, when he saw a doppelganger of Louis Tomlinson and flipped. Only, it wasn't a general imitation of a glass piece. It was the actual model, itself.

  It didn't take long after that to kiss filthily against dorm doors and eating out of each other's plates. So sickeningly cute that Zayn moved out of Louis'. They should have felt shameful about, but they rejoiced on Harry's moving in.

  Harry always had a tiny crick at the back of his head, that maybe. Maybe it was just a Uni Fling. He thought of it almost whenever Louis told he loved him, which thankfully wasn't frequent since he was closed off about it and put it out into songs rather than his own mouth. It ate Harry on the inside though, almost sure that they wouldn't be able to make it through after the whole ordeal was over. They'd be broke students circled by the vultures of society, waiting for them to be dead for a feast. But, he was proved wrong when Louis afforded a brand new Waffle-maker for their tiny little flat even after a whole year. He didn't understand how, but the waffle-maker gave him more hope than he thought it would. 

  Things got better though. He was out and fresh from university and the internship he had worked at had offered him a job. He sat at his desk most of the time, sipping bitter coffee and reading manuscripts for new books and that was that. They moved into a larger flat with two bedrooms, this time and their mums could actually stay for a few days instead of adjusting themselves on a cramped spot. He came home to his boyfriend's kisses and he couldn't ask for anything more.  

  That was until Louis got an email from a certain tourism channel company asking for an assistant. With a talkative mouth like that, Louis had always had a knack for exploring; mere wanderlust and put them together; travel journalism. It was Louis's dream, and who was anyone to shatter it by barking out the truth?

  Louis was gone for short periods of times, though, since he was only an assistant who carried the notes for the anchor and even supplied tea. But every job has a higher position, and Louis was a hard working person, he could get there in no time. There was no stopping dreams.Two months at tops, he mouthed on Harry's cheek when he got weepy. Those times, Harry would call before he went to bed and they'd talk till one of them fall asleep with their cheek pasted to the phone (Spoiler alert: it was always Harry) and cherish the time Louis was home.

  Things were blatantly serious between them. They couldn't run around like hooligans anymore, it was that part of the relationship where they had to prove themselves worthy of their contribution to their love. They couldn't be in two different places most of the time. Everyday over the phone started getting harder after a while, but they acknowledged each other's importance because of it. It felt like the long distance kind, even though it wasn't. 

  Any bomb ticks till the end of it's time, and that's how Harry blasted. He bottled it all up, letting anguish and melancholy fill even the corners in his body, filling his lungs till he can't breath. Louis had been home for a couple of months, but it ate the good side of his conscience, until the devil on his left shoulder ordered him into a dangerous path.

  They hadn't fought like that ever. With broken wine glasses on the floor, harsh insults in the air, boiling anger in their eyes. Louis went to sleep in the guest bedroom that night (thank god for that, he had thought) and when Harry went to apologize in the morning, there wasn't a trace of him in the room.

  Harry fell to the ground, numb that day. He didn't remember who called and who didn't. The only he realised was that it was in the evening that somebody knocked down the front door and scooped him up into their arms, smelling suspiciously like Niall's shampoo. It was then that he realised that his legs were hurting, just like the figurative heart in his chest and that returned angel on his right shoulder.

  And to this date, not a word. Louis didn't pack everything and leave is the thing. His things were still there. Taunting Harry in the worst ways possible, till he couldn't be alone in his own flat without reaching hysterics. The only thing missing were his clothes and He doesn't know whether he should be angry at his (ex?) boyfriend or sad for himself. He actually doesn't know anything anymore.

  Niall, Liam and Zayn still cribbed about him, but he told them that he's going to his mum for a Christmas dinner, also did a fair bit of arguing that he was being treated too much like a toddler. They all boarded their respective planes and trains with begrudgingly, glancing back him like he was going to combust after they leave. Fortunately, he didn't, but unfortunately, he felt like he did.

  When his mum called if Louis and him were coming home, he told her that they were going to Jay's. When Jay called, he told her they were going to his mums. Either way, he's wound up at home, alone with not even a dust bunny for company. He didn't have the heart to explain everything to their mums, since they'll only worry themselves sick and Harry doesn't want to add to their heavy plate.      

  He realises he's been looking at the wall clock for far too long, shaking himself out of it. Pulling up is pyjama pants, he pours himself a glass of red wine and sits on the bed in his room, setting to work. He ignores the fact that it's Louis' birthday and he can't call. Or of all those people who have tried to contact the missing man. They had given a week off at work, but he took a few manuscripts home to pass the time, it's not like he was in for the festivities. It's a bit uncomfortable, but he sits against the headboard with a pen between his teeth and reading glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose.

  He has a wonderful job he thinks in the middle, he can read as many books as he wants. He makes sure to highlight a particular book copy that has the plotline of a forcibly-closeted gay couple in an internationally famous boy-band. Reading it brought tears to his eyes and the struggle felt almost like his own. He doesn't realise the time till he hears the doorbell ring.

  His phones lights up with a 11:46 PM. Harry doesn't understand who it could be at this time. Like, everyone has an early night on Christmas eve for an eventful one the next day. All he think about is the things that could go wrong. A psycho killer is the worst he can come up with. He takes in a deep breath, dials in 999 before walking to the door. If there's any danger on the other side, he just press his thumb to the call button and drop it. With quaking hands, he wrenches open the lock and flings the door open.

  Louis. Bloody Louis Tomlinson.

  He's standing, leaning against the doorframe as if nothing had changed. With his tired signature smile, eyes red and the missing suitcases at his feet. Harry can feel his vision blurring suddenly, there's that feeling of a shiver from something like a deja vu that runs down his spine and his head spins for a moment. His knees involuntarily buckle, and he knows he'll drop. "Harry!" Louis reaches forward-

  Harry stands up straighter, he can better than this. "Don't touch me," he bites out sharply.

  "Babe-"

  "Don't babe me," Harry sneers, not sounding like himself at all. "You aren't allowed to do that anymore." He feel triumphant when Louis looks away, hands wringing guiltily. Good, he thinks. He's not going to accept it, Louis can't just fall into place the way it was before. Ask three months for proof. He can feel the anger surging from the tip of his toes all the way to his sinuses. The sadness has seemed to have evaporated away from on his skin like it had been covering him like a vermin, and left saturated anger in it's place. But then, Louis ran away when he blew up last time and didn't come back for months, if he blew up again, Louis wouldn't be back for years. The devil on his left shoulder is back when it says it doesn't matter. "How dare you? Why did you come back here? To show your face? Because I think I've seen enough of it my whole life."

  "Haz. Wait," Louis struggles.

  "That's what I've been doing, haven't I? Waiting like the fool I am. Three months. You could have been dead or alive, I didn't know. But you couldn't call, at least any of the lads and tell them that you didn't have to be buried or summat?" Harry flares out, spit flying everywhere. He couldn't care less, though. Pent up feelings always come out as anger.

  Louis doesn't even flinch. "I'm sorry."

  "Well, sorry doesn't cut it," Harry snorts, actually concentrating on Louis for once. He's lost an evident amount of weight, smiles a little more sadder and still sucks in his cheeks like he's seen something sour. Good to know that he wasn't the only one dying with an empty heart. But, suddenly, he can feel the wave of tears hitting him like an internal tsunami. This is what Louis does, he chides to himself. He brings out the worst in Harry and he can have absolutely no control over his emotions around him. The whole ordeal is horrible.

  "Ba-Harry," Louis starts, firm but soft. "You can scream all you want at me, but let's get inside, yeah?"

  "No, I'm not letting you in, not until you..." the rest of his words are drowned out by the massive gulp that his throat pushes down. Louis begins to tug him in, he tries to fight it, but in the end, he lets himself be led to a pulled out chair on the small dining table.

  Louis licks his lips nervously once he's helped Harry slump into a seat, front facing him as he leans his right shoulder against the back rest so that he sway and fall like he could have at the door way. "Okay, Harry, Go ahead."

  "Go ahead," Harry asks incredulously, albeit a bit wet. "What do you mean? Have you been bracing yourself for this kind of thing? Is this what you always want to do? Walk away when you want to and listen to me scream at you after that? Is that what you find as a solution?"

  "I did it once doesn't mean I'll do it again," Louis mutters.

  "Do you want me to believe that? Do you want to believe that for yourself?" He chokes out. "Tell me the truth, I beg of you. Please. How many times have you thought of doing this? Running away, I mean?"

  Louis is silent for a while. The seated man's heartbeat is thrumming in his ears, blood rushing to his head. "So many times," he whispers at last. "I can't even count how many."

  Harry is sat in awe. He didn't actually expect an answer to that. "Then, why didn't you do it before? It would have been easier if you broke my heart a little earlier, you know? I would have gotten used to it by now."

  "You're not the only one who's heart is broken," Louis shoots back. "You broke mine too. That night. Those words, did you even mean them?"

  "Does it matter? You know that I didn't mean them," Harry continues furiously, but he blinks back his building tears. "But, you left. You just left. No notice. You just got up and left."

  "I didn't leave, love," Louis says softly, which makes him want to melt into a puddle of whatever of him is left. He can't steel himself. "I'm never leaving, because that means goodbye and I never, I'm never saying goodbye to you. Ever. I'm just taking time for myself to miss you so that I can understand your importance, because I tend to do that sometimes." He moves closer.

  "Don't come closer," he snaps, and Louis moves to his place, a few meters back. "You're just trying to find a way out of this," Harry retorts snarkily. "Nothing will cover up the fact that you ran away. Twenty six year olds don't run away from their problems, Louis. They face them."

  "I didn't run away," Louis says calmly before he can continue dashing him out. "I had another assignment. They called me up that evening and told me the chap they were taking was ill and that if I required a raise in pay, I had to come with them. We need the money, Harry. We always do. We have that loan to repay. So, I did a little packing and went to the airport at 3 AM." He pauses to breath and it's a wonder that Harry is not interrupting, because he really really wants to, but like the good person he is, he bites down on his lip and waits for his turn. "I was going to tell you that night and I knew you wouldn't be okay with it. But then...if I told you, I thought I'd only make situations worse than they already are."

  "Why couldn't you tell Zayn, or maybe Niall, even? If Liam and I wouldn't have taken it like you wanted us to?"

  Louis comes closer with each word. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Don't come closer," he snarls again but his insides have gone oozy and weird from Louis' words. They hold sincerity and he knows he can't be fooled. He's known Louis since ever and even revels when he cowers back to his place dutifully. "You know I wouldn't have been angry after a few days. You hadn't thought of calling me once, at all?"

  The latter's lips turn down with a hint of a sheepish frown. "We argued quite harshly. I know it's going to be tougher than this in the future and I was scared," he rambled in an exhale. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I've been miserable because of it and I'll do anything-"

  "But, a sorry doesn't cover up that you didn't think about me before you left. You can't escape the way you want to, alright?"

  "But, you're better at this, Haz," Louis slightly whines. "You keep us at this...equilibrium sort of thing, and everything is the way it's supposed to be. I can't do that. I know you struggle too, that you want to avoid me sometimes. It's a part of us, though. But if you were me, you'd want to run away too."

  Harry doesn't answer that, even though he knows its correct. He toes at the floor and practices breathing, trying not to flip out like he normally does. "But that doesn't give you an excuse to do that," he mumbles. "If I can stay, then you can too. If you want to run away, find alternatives. If you think I keep this balanced, I can do it only because of you. Because both of us contribute to it. There is no singularly making a relationship stand, that's not possible." His voice has cracked several times shamelessly. He purses his lips, licking them. He can feel the tears resurfacing. "If you're going to just...do that again, I don't think. I don't think I can handle it. Do you how it is to feel like you're the reason the world is crumbling? Like you could be the reason someone wasn't sane, or dead? You don't know. You think you can just put all the weight on my side of the pillar and-"

 The rest of his words drown out when his forehead falls against something soft. Louis's stomach -he didn't even realise he was coming closer again. "Shh," Louis sooths, and fingers card through his wildly knotted hair, curlier than ever. He doesn't understand the feeling, but its like a rock has been lifted in his stomach and that sheen of doubt unveiled over his mind. But his vision hasn't. His sob goes muffled against the cotton of Louis' shirt and before he knows it, his crying himself out pathetically.

  Louis drops to his knees, eye level with him and he has glassy eyes, it feels like a relief. Harry hasn't been the only one who's felt like he lost the looseness in his chest or the piece of broken heaven. The tickle in his stomach expands when Louis nudges their noses together and tilts his head to kiss him.

  Harry begins to contemplate over the last few months, and they suddenly seem worth it. If it was for this kiss, this mark on the end line like a carved tattoo, then it's all in good reason. Struggle is never wasted. Unsaid words are almost vomited back up. There may not be any happy endings, or endings at all. The way to it is important.

  "I'm sorry, Haz. If there was a way to go back and undo it, I'd want to. I never wanted to hurt you," he pauses to kiss him again, Harry reciprocates almost greedily. "I won't promise I won't feel like escaping, but I promise I'll come back."

  Harry fumbles forward, knocking them to the ground, before covering Louis with himself. He winds his arms around his waist and squeezes tight with his head against the latter's chest. "I'll kill you if you did. You're not forgiven."

  Louis chuckles wetly, leaning down to press his lips to his head. "And I deserve it." He ruffles his hair, tapping his shoulder with the other hand. "C'mon, Harry. I've gotten you your early Christmas present."

  Harry jumps up, lighter. "I didn't get you anything. Was too angry with you."

  "Again, deserve it."

  "But, I have something that I wanted to give you last year, but I couldn't. I never had the courage. But one year of delay, only helped me add more stuff to it." Before Louis can ask anything, he scurries into their room, tripping twice on the way. Half happy and pouty when Louis laughs at him. He opens his closet and opens the tiny trapdoor against the wall to reveal a tiny book tucked in the socket. He retrieves it, and scampers back, stretching it out to his boyfriend. "I've written these things about you. And. I want you to read them when you feel like I won't be around, because I will."

Louis carefully takes the moleskin book from him. He's seen Harry's other notebooks, the leather ones had song lyrics in it, and that's what encouraged Louis to write a few of his own. He's gotten better at it too.

As if the pages might tear in the slightest touch, he flips open the cover to find neat cursive handwriting. Something that Harry only uses for special things, spending a lot of time to make it perfect. It says:

 **_If you're arms are my home and_ **  
**_the world is a whirlwind of spilling hate,_ **  
**_I was scared to clean off the dusty windows_ **  
**_to take a peek of outside. But_ **  
**_when I did, I saw the reflection of your smile_ **  
**_on the clear pane and I knew I'd be_ **  
**_alright..._ **

Louis thumbs over the words, his chest puffing up with feeling overwhelmed. "Harry."

"Please don't have any expectations. I'll keep writing, you know," Harry answers quickly. "I haven't really finished. You haven't given me the chance to finish."

 The older man goggles at him, hugging the book to his chest. "Best birthday present ever. Thank you."

 "Even better than that Beckham autograph from three years ago?"

 "Even better," Louis smiles briefly, as it falls right off his mouth moments later. "I reckon I do have expectations. Because, my gift. I think it's something for the both of us. I don't expect anything else from you...except this." He answers unabashedly, reaching into the satchel next to the dining table and pulling out a rectangular box covered in velvet. A little large for holding a ring. Oh well.

 Harry tentatively takes it from him, tipping the box till it snaps open to reveal two large earrings tucked into the ruffled satin. They look like the ones Zayn wears, only a little larger. Like, a woman's. "Uh, Louis. You know I don't have piercings, right? What's this for?"

 Louis gapes for a second. "What? Piercing. What do you- oh." He swallows hard enough for his Adam's apple to bob. He reaches into the same satchel and takes out a stiff board of something messily wrapped in newspaper. "Excuse the packing. I did on the bus to the way here." He lets Harry rip the paper open. Inside, there is an detection of parchment board and curly fancy calligraphy that makes both their hearts jump out their chests. A marriage license. "Will you?" Louis interjects in before Harry can even open his mouth.

 Harry drops it, fingers trembling when he brings it up to his mouth. "Lou. That's. You didn't. Louis, we just fought over something and we're putting it back together, how did you think this is make it go back to normal." He's the one who's generally the spontaneous on stuff like this. Harry is the one to bring up a bigger house or a bunch of children. But he supposes there's a first for everything, and hopefully this is a last.

 "That's the thing, isn't it, Haz? I want to keep fighting with you. We fight because we know each other too well. And I want you to scream and throw tea mugs at me than be apart from you. I know it's crazy, but it's been on my mind since my twenty fourth birthday, so let me do this right." He takes in a deep breath. "I don't know how to do this the cheesy way, Harold Styles. But I promise I'll be the only pain and love in your life. You have to marry me."

 "It's supposed to end with a question, Lou. You can't decide for me," Harry says softly, and even if that's not romantic as it should be, he's seen all the genuine promises and songs and tears dedicated to him and he knows they'll be fine.

 "I don't want to give you the chance to become my fiancé. We get married or we don't bring this up again. Being fiancés only means that we're not sure of ourselves yet. I don't want to do that. I'm sure of you. You're the light and I don't want to let you slip away. You can go to any corner of this universe and I'll be able to call you mine," Louis says fiercely.

"Why do you want a label?" Harry whispers, stroking the latter's cheek. They're backed against the dining table with a safe distance between them. "You're already mine and I'm already yours."

Louis hesitates a bit at that. "Because nobody will try to sweep you away if you have a ring on your finger."

"Where do you have a ring from?"

"The box you thought was earrings were actually the rings. You're either blind, or really dumb." Which explains why there were so big and tucked instead of hung into the velvet. Oh well.

Harry laughs sardonically. "You're saying it like all this is going to be easy, Lou. It's not. You've just started travelling, it's going to get bigger after this. You're probably going to gone for longer than two months and it's only going to get harder for us to keep it going with meeting only a few days every year. We're already struggling now, do you think..." the 'we'll make it till the end' goes unsaid, though he's sure Louis would have caught onto it.

"I stepped down from the current position."

"What?"

Louis tries to keep his face placid, but fails when the corners of his lips tilt up a little before wavering down. "You remember I used to write travel articles for that daily I worked for?" Harry nods. "My boss happed to see a few of them and offered me if I could that again instead of setting equipment up. He says I'm better at it. So, now I don't need to go places, places come to me. I have to interview the hosts after returning after their shooting as well as write on it, a small column of it will come in the newspaper which will be sponsored by my company." He takes a breath after a long stringed sentence. "They're keen on starting a blog in their website and I'll be in charge of it all. I'll also be able to write under freelance. I might be working the whole week instead of irregular times, but I suppose that's alright. The pay is higher too! Isn't that a right jackpot? I might even get a slave- an assistant who I can order around to get me tea!"

Harry incredulously watches as his boyfriend trips over his speech as his grin takes over nearly his entire face and how his eyes light. It makes him crack a smile too, but slips off almost immediately. "Louis. But, you dreamt of this for so long."

Louis' smile shrinks minutely, but still present. "Sometimes dreams are just an illusion, you know? Because I always thought of settling down with you while doing my travelling career and that's. It's impossible. My job is just a part of my life, it's not my life."

"Neither am I."

"You aren't," he says. "But you're an important aspect of it, and I don't want to mess anything up."

Harry opens his mouth, but closes it again. "I don't know what to say, Louis."

"Just say you'll marry me. Right now, in this moment," Louis offers, nonchalant like it isn't even a big deal. But cuts in when Harry starts to say something contradictive. "You know, what? We'll do this right now. I don't care if our mums are angry at us, or our friends are not okay with it. You don't have to wear the ring till you're comfortable with it. We don't need to tell anybody till you don't want to." He looks Harry dead in the eyes, seriousness still in his irises. "Just. Only if you trust me, okay?"

"I always have," Harry answers after a while of impending uncomfortable silence. He knows that if it's not now, it's got to happen at some point. They've made idle discussion about marriage, but never expected it to happen in the heart of his own. When wedding came to his mind, there was cake and laughter and flowers, but none of that was really required for a marriage. They could do well without all that. He bends down, picking up the license, placing it on the table. "Okay, how did you get this without permission and why is there already a witness signature on it?"

"Well, you see. I kind of bribed a very sentimental man down at Sparklinton County into printing out one on the spot and he made me deal if I showed up there again with you in tow, so that I wasn't kidding around," Louis grins. "And my colleague, Victor signed it beforehand and said he has faith in us. That idiot. I mean, I've shown him a lot of pictures of you and he. He says I talk about you a lot."

"Invite him over for dinner sometime," Harry finds himself saying, but also surprises himself by stretching out his hand. "Do you have a pen?"

"Great," Louis quips with a twinkle in his eyes, before slipping one out of his coat and placing it in his palm. "Here."

Harry grips the pen between his thumb and forefinger, turning towards his to-be-husband. "You have no problem with your birthday, Christmas and our wedding anniversary being around the same time?" Wow. Wedding anniversary. Doesn't that sound good on his tongue. And in his mouth and even in the criticising voice at the back of his head.

"I suppose I would have later on, but I don't think I'll be worried anytime soon," Louis says with a tense smile. "You're sure, aren't you?"

Harry puts the nibs against the parchment, a moment longer till it blots on the page before scribbling out his name with shaking hands and even more violently shaking nerves. He offers the pen over. "There. Now, you won't ask me that again."

Louis wordlessly takes the pen and adds his name next to it. He reaches over to the velvet box, and takes the larger one out of the two and grabs Harry's hand. After steadying it into his hand, he slips it on and presses a tentative kiss to the ring. "I won't. I've tied you down. How sad for you."

"I don't think I'm that sad," Harry says airily, and he slides the other ring onto Louis' finger, lips twitching into a full smile. "We didn't the 'I do' part, but maybe we can do the 'you may kiss the bride' part."

Louis looks at him slyly, eyebrows raising slowly, but coy smile playing on his lips. "I think that'll depend on who the bride is." He doesn't wait for a reply, before he cranes up and pulls into a long and syrupy kiss. It's slow, like they're catching up on missed things and firm like 'I'm not letting you go'. And, that's always very nice.

They may not have spectators clapping, but they have their hearts thudding out of control. That's when Harry thinks, what do I have to afraid of now? Nothing, his mind answers, and he can blissfully listen to it for once. He pulls apart, smiling with his eyes full of mirth at Louis. "I can't imagine how bloated you're feeling now that I'm a Tomlinson. Harry Tomlinson. Hm."

"You have no idea how big my ego is right now," Louis sighs.

They dust off the mini plastic Christmas three they used a couple of years ago, when they're looking though their tiny storeroom for memories. They even hang up the foam candy canes and ornaments when they bring it down. They can celebrate Christmas alone for once and nothing can hurt them. They'll be the only ones in the world, no looking at those hundred missed calls on his phone, or the whooping blizzard wind outside. It doesn't seem like it would matter.

They make cookies after that, sugarless ones for the hardships they've faced but gotten through, and add butter to symbolise the way things have worked out for them. Louis sneaks to eat dough in the middle, but Harry keeps swatting his hand away. They take pictures in black and white, because it's their first time as husbands making something in the kitchen, even if Louis' merely sitting on the counter and watching Harry do everything with his legs swinging back and forth. Black and white, because they'll be memories. Memories are black and white, present time is always Technicolor.

In the end, the cookies are delicious without the sweetness and they go to bed with sugary words on their tongue and when Louis intertwines their fingers when he's kissing down his chest, Harry knows that'll it'll be okay. He just closes his eyes and squeezes his hand. Sex after a long time is always good, Louis slurs, but they don't for long before a second round.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, his nose is against his husband's. Husband, it sounds amazing in his head, he can't wait to taste it in his mouth. Louis has his mouth open and his eyelashes fluttering. Can things get more better, he asks himself. But, things are the same between them. Except probably; husband sex is far much better than boyfriend sex, he doesn't get how though. Louis is messy and Harry still loves it. He huffs and begins to pick the clothes strewn across their room until he feels the crumple of paper against Louis's jeans pocket.

He pulls it out, even if it's an invasion of privacy. Throwing an eye on the sleeping form, he glances back at the crisp paper that has the blot of ink from the wet snow, but he carefully opens it. It says To Harry on the top. But it feels like something he shouldn't read. Nonetheless, he scans his eyes over the words scratched on it.

 

 **Verse1:** _  
I can't be by your side. I can't be by your side all the time_  
_But I'll keep you by mine, at least I'll try_  
_We might not be the same. We might not be the same we were once_  
_I'll pick up the memories that you drop when you pass by_

 **Pre-chorus:** _  
I won't let you write songs on heartbreak,_  
          _Even if the devil comes to get me again_  
_You can hide your fears in my neck_  
_And I'll say sweet nothings till the end_  
_My love pressed to your forehead_

 **Chorus:** _  
If you happen to drown, in the harsh spell of fierce doubt  
_ _Under our bed, there's an old shoebox_  
  _We spent hours filling with our love_  
_Unlock it when you think of us_

 **Verse 2:**  
 _It'll be harder to smile. It'll be harder to smile at times_  
_You'll still have the warmth of my hand in yours_  
_You'll want to run away. You'll want to run away at times._  
_I'll pull you by the collar, back through the door_

**(Pre-chorus) (Chorus)**

_You can try hard to drive me crazy, but you know I'm never leaving..._

_If I don't come back_  
_I'll remember your calloused hands_  
_And how I was the lines on your palms_  
_I'll return 'cause we can't be apart_  
_You can set right and root me to your heart_

 

 

And if Harry read that didn't cry and then go into the kitchen to make a good breakfast in bed and wake his husband with a hot and passionate kiss, he'd be lying. When the crumpled paper was knocked into Louis' fist late in the morning, he simply smiled and kissed him before pulling back to shake his head at Harry, telling him he was a kleptomaniac who didn't steal just things.

Those words meant more than they let on.

  
-

  
 

  
 

  
 

(But, when Niall saw two identical rings in one of the kitchen cabinets a few weeks later, he cried harder than Harry and nobody objected when their mums chased them down the street with wooden spoons when they found out a bit after that. They weren't going to tell anybody that, really.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feedback would be lovely. x


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